GirlTalk
by RillaOfIngleside
Summary: One shot. Rose is home from Hogwarts and it’s time for a heart to heart. Rose/Hermione mother and daughter relationship with Romione reflections


"Mum?"

Hermione had been walking past Rose's room, laundry basket in her arms, on her way to the linen cupboard when she heard the small voice from inside. It was the first Saturday of the Hogwarts school holidays and Hermione was delighted by the prospect of spending some early morning time with her daughter. Plus what with Rose being 14, Hermione knew better than to assume that hanging out with her mum was always going to be top of her list of things to do.

Neatly depositing the laundry basket outside it, Hermione opened the door, and sat down on Rose's bed, depositing a kiss on her forward and stroking her wild curls. Hermione gazed at Rose fondly. That hair! To think of the years she had spent hating her own unruly hair, only to realise all these years later when looking at her child that Ron has been right about how glorious the endlessly frizzy curls were.

"I'm so glad you're home, sweetheart."

"Me too, mum."

There was a comfortable silence. A mother can gaze contentedly at her child for a long time, particularly when that child's bleary morning expression so clearly brought out the resemblance to her father.

"Mum?"

"Yes, my darling?" (Hermione wasn't normally the parent for endearments, but something about the way that Rose had started squirming suddenly suggested to her that some encouragement was needed).

"Ummm. Well. There's this boy".

In Hermione's heart a klaxon was blaring. PANIC PANIC! It's too soon! Only it wasn't too soon, of course. If you can start to feel fluttery when you look at a boy as he vomits slugs when you're 12, you can definitely have things to say about boys when you're 14. Instinctively Hermione looked around for Ron, who was not only the parent who was more often physically present for the kids, but also the one who could make any conversation feel okay with some easy banter and a hug. But of course, it was just Hermione and Rose in the room and anyway this was clearly Girl Talk (the panic mounted further. Hermione hadn't been any good at girl talk even when she was a girl, let alone now that she was a grown up woman more used to giving policy briefings and key note speeches than talking about feelings... oh God, what would Ron do if he were here? Think, Hermione, think!)

Rose noted her mother's hesitation and looked away, even more squirmily.

"Forget it" she said, gruffly, trying to hide her embarrassment by sitting up in bed and half turning away as she stretched. "I mean, I know it's a stupid thing to think about, to care about. You wouldn't get it."

Hermione had laughed out loud before she could even think about how to respond to that. Rose looked at her, guarded but curious.

"I wouldn't get it? Rosie, do you think I didn't think about boys when I was your age?" Hermione asked.

"Of course not! I mean, you guys had Voldemort to fight every half an hour, practically. I get that it was a very different time and you were very different kinds of people".

Hermione felt a moment of decision present itself to her, without any time to prepare. What kind of message was she going to give Rose here? She absolutely wanted her daughter to respect her - yes, even to admire her if she was honest - and for Rose to feel in her heart the absolute importance of striving to improve the world. She didn't want Rose to think it was okay to spend the next 4 years mooning and giggling and sighing over a boy, or a succession thereof.

And yet. And yet...

The decision somehow made itself.

"Rose, I'm going to be completely honest with you and I hope you won't judge me too harshly".

Rose's eyes widened.

"From about third year onwards, the first thought I had in the morning and the last thought I had at night were about one thing and one thing only. In between I thought lots of important things and you're right, it was a different time and there were things we had to do. But even in the midst of that, I thought about boys. Well, one boy. I remember one night sitting in the common room - in sixth year, I think it was - and realising that if there was a choice between making all the danger and dark stuff go away and finding out that the boy I was obsessed with fancied me... I despised myself for it but if I was absolutely honest with myself, in my heart of hearts, I'd have wanted the latter. I'd never have chosen it, of course, if that had somehow been a choice I could make - I would have done the right thing, the brave and sensible thing. But it was what I wanted most."

There was a pause while Rose took this in.

"Wow, okay. And, erm, did he? The boy in question? I mean, I figured it was Dad you were talking about but then when you said about wanting him to fancy you... Like, I can't imagine Dad ever being able to hide it. Even now that you're both so old it's like he can't believe his luck every time he looks at you."

"That's 'cause I can't - and less of the 'you're so old'!" Rose could hear the smile in his voice even before the door had opened and Ron had stepped through it.

"Sorry to eavesdrop" he said, plonking himself down to join them on the bed. Hermione was blushing slightly, but smiled and absent-mindedly ran her fingers through his hair. "I was just heading downstairs to look for my beautiful wife or my equally beautiful daughter and see if anyone wanted a cup of tea", Ron continued.

"We both do", said Rose, "thanks Dad. We'll come down and have it if you get the kettle on."

"Oi! Am I being shoved out of this heart to heart to go and make tea?" Ron protested, but he was already bounding up and heading for the door. He was delighted to think of Rose - who historically had always come to him with her problems - allowing Hermione into her heart like this, and he also knew that he was too protective over Rose to be able to give any halfway sensible advice about any boy who dared to come sniffing around her.

"For the record, though" he said pausing in the doorway. "I fancied your mum like mad. I had done for years. I spent approximately 98 per cent of any given day fantasising about her. And I was properly in love with her, what's more. But I was a teenage boy and it never occurred to me that she could fancy me too. So I was a prat. Boys often are".

His point made, he started for the stairs, whistling, only to whirl around, poke his head around the door again and say to Hermione "Shit, it was me you were talking about, wasn't it?"

"You know full well that it was", Hermione rolled her eyes at him and threw the stuffed hippogriff who Rose hadn't quite outgrown having in her bed at Ron's retreating back as he left the room for good.

"So there you have it", she said, simply, to her daughter. "It doesn't matter what else you've got going on: if you're a teenager then you're probably going to be thinking about boys - or girls - and it's perfectly normal. And if you're a pair of idiots then you can waste a lot of time being miserable for no reason. One of these days I'll have to give you the whole sorry saga of the Yule Ball they had when we were in fourth year".

"Tell me now!" Rose had never had this kind of conversation with her mum before. She was fascinated by this glimpse of a different side to the self-assured and supremely competent woman she knew and loved.

"Over breakfast", Hermione promised. "But first" she continued, tucking her knees up to her chest and pushing a stray curl behind her ear, "tell me all about this boy that's on your mind..."

They were still in Rose's bedroom, talking and laughing, ten minutes later as their tea went cold in the kitchen. Ron read the sports news with the cat on his lap as he drank his own tea and waited for Hugo to wake up. "Last thought every night, eh?" he murmured to himself, as he scratched the cat behind its ears, and smiled.


End file.
